Aedh Wishes His Beloved Were Dead
Were you but lying cold and dead,And lights were paling out of the West,You would come hither, and bend your head,And I would lay my head on your breast;And you would murmur tender words,Forgiving me, because you were dead:Nor would you rise and hasten away,Though you have the will of the wild birds,But know your hair was bound and woundAbout the stars and moon and sun:O would beloved that you layUnder the dock-leaves in the ground,While lights were paling one by one.
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